The hearth's decaying brands were red,

And deep and dusky lustre shed,
Half showing, half concealing, all

The uncouth trophies of the hall.
Mid those the stranger fix'd his eye,
Where that huge falchion hung on high,
And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,
Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along,
Until, the giddy whirl to cure,

He rose, and sought the moonshine pure.

XXXV.

The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom,
Wasted around their rich perfume : 1
The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm,
The aspens slept beneath the calm;
The silver light, with quivering glance,
Play'd on the water's still expanse,
Wild were the heart whose passions' sway
Could rage beneath the sober ray!
He felt its calm, that warrior guest,

While thus he communed with his breast: —

"Why is it, at each turn I trace
Some memory of that exil'd race?

1 MS.: "Play'd on the bosom of the lake,
Loch Katrine's still expanse;

The birch, the wild-rose, and the broom,
Wasted around their rich perfume.

The birch-trees wept in balmy due;

The aspen slept on Benvenue;

...

Wild were the heart whose passions' power
Defied the influence of the hour."

Can I not mountain maiden spy,
But she must bear the Douglas eye?
Can I not view a Highland brand,
But it must match the Douglas hand?
Can I not frame a fever'd dream,
But still the Douglas is the theme?

I'll dream no more — by manly mind
Not even in sleep is will resign'd.
My midnight orisons said o'er,

I'll turn to rest, and dream no more."
His midnight orisons he told,

A prayer with every bead of gold,
Consigned to heaven his cares and woes,
And sunk in undisturb'd repose;
Until the heath-cock shrilly crew,
And morning dawn'd on Benvenue.

CANTO SECOND.

The Esland.

I.

Ar morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing,
'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay,
All Nature's children feel the matin spring
Of life reviving, with reviving day;

And while yon little bark glides down the bay,
Wafting the stranger on his way again,
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,

And sweetly o'er the lake was heard the strain, Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd AllanBane! 1

1 That Highland chieftains, to a late period, retained in their service the bard, as a family officer, admits of very easy proof. The author of the Letters from the North of Scotland, an officer of engineers, quartered at Inverness about 1720, who certainly cannot be deemed a favorable witness, gives the following account of the office, and of a bard whom he heard exercise his talent of recitation: "The bard is skilled in the genealogy of all the Highland families, sometimes preceptor to the young laird, celebrates in Irish verse the original of the tribe, the famous warlike actions of the successive heads, and sings his own lyricks as an opiate to the chief, when indisposed for sleep; but poets are not equally

54

II.

SONG.

"Not faster yonder rowers' might
Flings from their oars the spray,
Not faster yonder rippling bright
That tracks the shallop's course in light,
Melts in the lake away,

Than men from memory erase

The benefits of former days;

Then, stranger, go! good speed the while,
Nor think again of the lonely isle.

esteemed and honored in all countries. I happened to be a witness of the dishonor done to the muse, at the house of one of the chiefs, where two of these bards were set at a good distance, at the lower end of a long table, with a parcel of Highlanders of no extraordinary appearance, over a cup of ale. Poor inspiration! They were not asked to drink a glass of wine at our table, though the whole company consisted only of the great man, one of his near relations, and myself. After some little time, the chief ordered one of them to sing me a Highland song. The bard readily obeyed, and with a hoarse voice, and in a tune of few various notes, began, as I was told, one of his own lyricks: and when he had proceeded to the fourth or fifth stanza, I perceived, by the names of several persons, glens, and mountains, which I had known or heard of before, that it was an account of some clan battle. But in his going on, the chief (who piques himself upon his schoollearning), at some particular passage, bid him cease, and cried out, 'There's nothing like that in Virgil or Homer.' I bowed and told him I believed so. This you may believe was very edifying and delightful."— Letters, ii. 167.

“High place to thee in royal court,

High place in battle line,

Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport,
Where beauty sees the brave resort,1
The honor'd meed be thine!

True be thy sword, thy friend sincere,
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear,
And lost in love and friendship's smile
Be memory of the lonely isle.

III.

SONG CONTINUED.

"But if beneath yon southern sky
A plaided stranger roam,
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh,
And sunken cheek and heavy eye,

Pine for his Highland home;
Then, warrior, then be thine to show
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe;
Remember then thy hap ere while,
A stranger in the lonely isle.

"Or if on life's uncertain main

Mishap shall mar thy sail;

If faithful, wise, and brave in vain,
Woe, want, and exile thou sustain
Beneath the fickle gale;

Waste not a sigh on fortune changed,
On thankless courts, or friends estranged,

1 MS.: "At tourneys where the brave resort."